


Six Metal Walls and Ten Feet of History

by pt_tucker



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Buried Alive, M/M, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Protective Gabriel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-28 01:25:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8425303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pt_tucker/pseuds/pt_tucker
Summary: Jesse wakes up somewhere he wishes he wasn't. Things get better from there.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](https://overwatch-kink.dreamwidth.org/679.html?thread=700839#cmt700839) over at the Overwatch kink meme.

Consciousness came back to him slowly. So slowly that it took him a minute to realize that the pitch black he saw when he opened his eyes wasn’t part of some fevered dream. Another minute was spent telling his heart to hold its damn horses and quit trying to give him a damn heart attack. He wasn’t blind. He _wasn’t_. It was just dark.

Dark and damn cramped. 

His knees were pressed up against his chest and trying to extend them only earned him an extra couple of inches. His arms didn’t even get that. The box - or container or whatever the hell they’d shoved him in - was flush against his hips, forcing him to sit with his hands in what little space existed between his chest and legs. His body ached, but that didn’t tell him much. Five minutes spent scrunched up like somebody’s tossed trash would’ve been enough to make any man cringe. 

Whoever’d gone to the effort of providing him with his new accommodations sure as hell hadn’t sprung for the deluxe suite. 

He had to wiggle a bit to reach his pocket, and he was cursing up a storm by the time he was able to slip his hand down into the cloth. It was worth it when he was able to flick on his lighter. Definitely not blind. 

He took a quick look around. Yep. He was in deep shit. He flipped the lighter closed, extinguishing the flame. Best not to waste the oxygen.

Jesse glided his hands along the metal container, searching for any weaknesses that his eyes might have missed. A thin line ran the perimeter of the box: it had to be the opening. He hadn’t seen any sort of locking mechanism - not even any screws where one might have attached to the outside - so either his captors were fool enough to lead the horse into the barn and then forget to close the barn door or something else was up. And Jesse liked to think he hadn’t been taken by fools.

He raised his hands above his head and laid his palms flat against the metal. Jesse pushed, gently at first and then with everything he had as he realized the lid wasn’t budging. He let his hands drop. Damn.

The fact that they’d left him Peacekeeper didn’t settle him any. Meant that shootin’ randomly and hoping for the best probably wasn’t gonna work. Jesse sighed.

“Sure could use a cigar right about now.”

He jumped when his comm sparked to life in his ear.

“I wouldn’t recommend that, cowboy.”

Jesse tried to place the voice but only had vague recollections of fighting Talon. Someone in their employ then. Great. At least the other sounded male. He’d hate to get screwed over by Amélie. “So I’d figured. Mind tellin’ me why you went to all this trouble? Not that I ain’t flattered, but it seems a might bit overboard when you coulda just shot me and been done with it.”

“And then you’d be dead now.”

“You don’t say?” Jesse forced himself to play it cool. You’d be surprised at the information people’d give you when they thought you didn’t care one way or the other. “Dead now. Dead later. Does it matter?”

There was a pause before the other answered, and when he did, it was short and to the point. “I’ve sent your location to Overwatch. Just sit tight and don’t try anything stupid. You’re under ten feet of dirt and gravel in the middle of nowhere. You’ll be dead long before you can dig your way out. And for goodness’ sake, leave your damn gun in its holster.”

“I ain’t an idiot,” Jesse protested, and only just stopped himself from adding “Gabe” onto the end of that sentence. He allowed himself a wry grin. Twelve years and he still couldn’t help but hear that bastard’s voice all over the damn place.

“You got yourself caught, didn’t you?” the other man shot back and it was so similar to something Gabe would have said after a botched mission that Jesse couldn’t help but narrow his eyes.

He’d heard the rumors. How could he not? What with Morrison not being dead and Ana not being dead and Amélie not being locked away in some deep, dark basement of Talon’s. Nobody in this damn business ever stayed away. Not that he was complaining, mind you. Jesse rather liked having “Mom” and “Dad” around, even if Morrison could be a grumpy son of a bitch on a good day.

The idea that Gabriel Reyes might have survived too wasn’t so far-fetched. Even if it was more wishful thinking than anything.

“Gabe?” he asked, because it didn’t hurt to try. Not physically, anyway. He kept his voice low, not really wanting to believe it, but not wanting to be wrong either.

There was another pause, longer this time. Jesse figured he’d been left alone when his mystery man finally spoke up. “Just don’t get caught again, kid.”

He was gone then, Jesse was sure. Or, at least, he wouldn’t talk to him anymore. Not after he’d deemed the conversation over. Gabe never had been the chattin’ type.

“Yes, sir.” He gave a mock salute on the off chance Gabe could see him. The pathetic excuse of a salute that he could manage in his tiny prison, at any rate. Bastard couldn’t have found anything bigger? He was willing to accept that strange circumstances had led to Gabe deciding this was the best way to save his ass, but damn if it wasn’t uncomfortable.

He closed his eyes and allowed his breathing to even out. No use complainin’ about it now. Nothin’ left to do but sit and wait. If Gabe said that Overwatch was on their way, then they were on their way. 

Several minutes passed. Maybe more. Hard to tell.

Damn it. He couldn’t just leave it at that. 

“I ain’t gonna forget what you did, you know that. But someone once told me that there’s always a chance to come back from what you’ve done if you’re willin’ to work for it.” 

Jesse waited. There wasn’t any answer. 

He sighed again. “Just sayin’.”

Later that day, after Overwatch had dug him out of that damn hole, after Jesse had dodged the awkward questions of who had put him there and why, and after Ana and Morrison had been allowed to fuss over him - with Morrison doing it in that way of his that made it look like he wasn’t _really_ fussin’ - Jesse found himself back in the place he now called home. His quarters weren’t exactly what he’d consider roomy, but there was a bed, and he was damn tired. 

Not so tired as to not feel the air shift behind him after the door was already closed.

He whirled around, Peacekeeper at the ready, and found himself at the wrong end of two black shotguns. Well, shit. Jesse could probably call for help. If he wanted a chest full of lead. 

“Reaper. Fancy meetin’ you here.” 

Neither one of them moved for a good, long minute. If this was a test of endurance, then Jesse was bound to lose, and he hated losing.

“We gonna do this?”

“What if I’m not willing to work for it?”

If Jesse’d had a cigar in his mouth right then, it’d have fallen straight to the floor. “Ga-”

Reaper burst into black smoke. It slid around his hips and then Reaper - Gabe - was behind him. Jesse felt the press of metal against his back. So that’s how it was gonna be then.

“What if I just want to take it?”

Jesse snorted. Gabe always could be a dramatic bastard when he wanted. It’d scared the shit out of him when he’d been a kid, but he’d not been a child for a long time. He holstered Peacekeeper. “You tryin’ to tell me you went to all that effort just so you could shoot me in the back later?” He turned so that the barrels of the shotguns were pressed against his chest. “Bullshit.”

“And besides,” he continued, his voice lowering into a tone he hadn’t thought he’d ever use again, “you can’t take what’s freely offered, partner.”

The guns stayed pointed at his chest and there was a brief moment where Jesse thought Gabe might really shoot him - he’d certainly blown the shit out of Morrison back at the Swiss headquarters - then the shotguns dropped to the floor. Jesse tried to hide how relieved he was while he simultaneously frowned down at them. It wasn’t proper to treat your weapons like garbage.

“Just for tonight. Tomorrow I’m gone, and if you ever get knocked out by some no-name Talon agent again, I’m walking up and putting a round in your ass myself.”

Jesse nodded. It was a start.

“Just for tonight.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, what'd you guys think of my first Overwatch fic? Hopefully I didn't mangle the characters too badly. I honestly don't know much about this fandom. Like, is there any sort of timeline anywhere that I can look at? Even a fairly accurate fan-made one? Are there any good lore/character videos I could watch to get a better handle on things? I've never tried to write for a fandom in which I hadn't actually played the game, and I wonder if I'm missing stuff by just watching the shorts/reading the comics & wiki.


End file.
